When the mafia heir, Marco Gallante, barged into the family vault with his mistress, I was standing before the Virgin Mary statue, cross-checking bloodstained ledgers.

Fiore Albero cowered behind him, pointing at the ledgers in my hands and shrieking, "Marco, I'm scared..."

I did not even bother looking up, just flicked the ash off my cigar. However, Marco kicked the desk over with one swift boot.

"Chiara Moltisanti, Fiore can't stand the sight of all this blood and violence. Sign the divorce papers, now!"

I stared at the mess scattered across the floor, thinking back to the pregnancy report the family doctor had handed me just ten minutes ago.

The Gallante bloodline was dying out in this generation. Ever since the eldest son, Luca Gallante, died in that accident, Marco became the sole heir.

The Don, Carmine Gallante, dreamed of nothing more than a legitimate boy of pure blood to carry on the family name and glory.

So, I smiled, bright and sharp, with unmistakable mockery. "Perfect. Since you want true love, then the Don's throne will never be yours."

Besides, I never wanted Marco, that useless fool. What I wanted was the Gallante empire, a mafia dynasty spanning three continents with 100 years of roots, and the control that left him with nowhere to run and no legs to stand on.

This time, I would cut him out completely, keep the bloodline, and sit at the head of the family.

The warehouse at Barklesfield Docks was surrounded by the Russo family. Over 100 men stood ready, and the air reeked of gunpowder.

When I arrived, Marco Gallante's phone was still going straight to voicemail. The senior family members were all stone-faced, their expressions grim.

Tony Bianchi, the Russo family's mad dog, gave me a cold smile that did not reach his eyes. "Chiara Moltisanti, where's Marco? Hiding behind a woman? Is that seriously your family's future Don?"

I ignored him, pulled my phone out of my purse, and made a video call. Soon, a boy in an elementary school uniform appeared on the screen.

"Dad, when are you coming to pick me up? The teacher said our classes are ending earlier today."

I turned the screen toward him, smiling sweetly. "Tony, your son is out of school. He's asking why you haven't picked him up yet."

Tony's fake smile froze instantly, and the killing intent in his eyes was sharp enough to cut. After a full minute of silence, he ground his teeth and forced out two words.

"Pull back!"

Just like that, a bloodbath was avoided.

When I returned to the Ivywood Estate, covered in cold sweat and reeking of blood, fireworks were exploding brilliantly outside the windows.

It turned out Fiore Albero had learned how to bake cupcakes, and Marco had thrown her a grand fireworks show in a restricted zone just to celebrate.

I walked into the living room, feeling exhausted. However, Marco just frowned and covered his nose in disgust.

He hissed, "Chiara, what the hell is that smell? You reek like the sewer. You're making Fiore sick!"

Fiore cowered behind him timidly, her gaze innocent yet carrying a hint of provocation. She mumbled, "Chiara, don't blame Marco. He's just worried about me... But maybe you shouldn't spend all your time with guns and thugs. No wonder Marco doesn't like you."

Marco glanced at her fondly, then turned back to me with disgust. "Chiara, let's get divorced. The Gallante family is transitioning into politics. What kind of example does it set for the future Donna to act like a hitman? Fiore is better suited for that position."

I laughed out of sheer anger. He was the heir to the family, yet both cowardly and stupid.

Without me, could he have handled a situation like tonight on his own, or was Fiore supposed to drown Tony with her tears?

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my abdomen, but I forced myself to endure it and retreated to the first-floor bathroom.

There, I took off my coat, and a half-foot-long gash on my arm was still bleeding, cut by a dagger during the chaos earlier.

I poured whiskey over the wound, trembling from the pain, but kept one hand protectively over my belly. I whispered, "Be strong, my child..."

Outside the door, I heard Marco's gentle murmurs to Fiore. "Don't worry. I already switched the vitamins that the old hag takes with birth control. I swear to God, she'll never carry my child. Not in this lifetime."

I sneered. My hands kept moving–of course I knew he had switched the pills.

If I could not see through such a simple trick, what kind of consigliere would I be?

Three months ago, on the night of the IVF procedure, I had arranged a setup and made sure Marco drank himself unconscious. The next morning, when he woke up with no memory, I acted embarrassed and accused him of being too passionate the night before.

Besides feeling guilty, he was mostly pleased with himself about it. From that day on, I used the excuse of not feeling well to sleep in separate rooms.

Once I was done, I walked out of the bathroom, my expression calm and composed.

I said, "Fine. I'll consider the divorce."

Right in front of them, I slid the diamond ring off my finger and casually tossed it onto the coffee table.

Marco looked stunned, clearly not expecting me to agree without tears or hysterics.

Without sparing them another glance, I headed straight upstairs.

Back in my room, I gently stroked my belly and whispered softly, "Luca, our baby is three months old now... The show is about to begin."

Luca Gallante was the Gallante family's long-dead eldest son, and the only man I had ever loved.

At dawn, a shrill phone ring tore through the night.

"Chiara, we've got a problem! There's a rat in the family. The FBI is raiding the docks in an hour for a full sweep!"

My heart sank when I heard the news. After all, that was where the family had hidden decades' worth of ledgers. If they found those books, the entire Gallante family, including me, would be facing life sentences.

Since Marco was not home, I immediately dialed his number. However, it went straight to voicemail.

There was no need to guess; he was probably still in Fiore's loving arms.

Outside, a violent storm was tearing through the city. Without a second thought, I grabbed my car keys and ran straight into the rain.

When I reached the docks, federal agents were already positioned in the shadows, and rival families who had caught wind of it circled nearby, waiting to profit from the chaos.

I had barely slipped through a hidden side entrance of a warehouse when several dark figures lunged at me from the shadows. I dodged sideways and quickly hit a hidden switch on the wall.

With a heavy crash, the steel gate dropped instantly, trapping my pursuers in the narrow corridor. It was a defense mechanism Luca had designed years ago.

I slid down through the ventilation shaft into the vault. Suddenly, my lower abdomen cramped with another wave of sharp pain.

Leaning against the wall, I gritted through the pain and dialed Marco's number again. This time, he answered.

"Who is this? It's the middle of the damn night!"

I suppressed the pain, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I'm at the docks. I'm trapped. The FBI's about to arrive. You should–"

Before I could finish, a soft, delicate voice interrupted me. "Marco, it's thundering. I'm so scared..."

It was Fiore.

On the other end, Marco's voice immediately softened. "Don't worry. It's alright. I'll hold you while you sleep."

The call ended abruptly.

I took a deep breath and retrieved the ledgers from a hidden compartment beneath the Virgin Mary statue in the office. Using waterproof bags and tape, I strapped them tightly to my inner thigh.

Police sirens wailed in the distance, growing clearer by the second. Meanwhile, the main entrance was blocked by men from the rival families.

I still did not know who the rat was. Hence, I could only rely on myself.

After sending a quick text, I lifted up a floor tile. It was an escape tunnel Luca had personally dug years ago as a precaution.

The exit led to a hidden rock cave beneath the docks, where a lifeboat was kept. I sprinted through the slippery passageway, the dragging pain in my abdomen growing more intense.

When I reached the exit, I discovered with crushing despair that the lifeboat's engine had been sabotaged.

Footsteps and angry shouts from my pursuers echoed through the tunnel, getting closer. I scanned my surroundings and squeezed into a crevice Luca had set up inside the cave.

It was an air pocket that only left the head above water during high tide, nearly impossible to detect.

A jagged rock tore into my thigh, cutting to the bone, and blood soaked my pants instantly. The searing pain and blood loss made my vision blur, and the cramping in my belly grew more violent.

I clutched my stomach protectively and pulled out the progesterone injection I always carried, jabbing it into my arm without hesitation.

In the darkness, I clenched my jaw as tears and cold sweat streamed down my face. I did not know how much time had passed before a frantic voice called out from the cave entrance.

It was the family doctor, Vincent Romano.

I used the last of my strength to crawl out. When he saw the horrific wound on my leg and reached for anesthesia, I grabbed his hand tightly.

"Stitch me up without anesthesia–now! It's bad for the baby."

Vincent looked at me, his tears watering his eyes, but eventually he picked up the needle and thread.

I dragged my leg–stitched with more than a dozen sutures–back to the Gallante family estate on Ivywood. What awaited me was not concern or comfort, but a cold judgment from the family.

The Don, Carmine Gallante, slammed his cane hard against the floor, the dull thud echoing through the hall.

"You look pathetic, Chiara. You couldn't even hold a dock, and you brought shame to the Gallante family."

Marco stood beside Carmine with Fiore wrapped tightly in his arms. As he looked at my battered state, his eyes were filled with smug satisfaction. Meanwhile, Fiore nestled in his embrace like a pampered cat who had just claimed her territory.

The Don's wife, Mariah Valentino, looked Fiore up and down, nodding approvingly. "She has such a kind aura. She'll definitely bring good fortune to the family. Unlike some people who reek of death..."

She shot me a pointed glance before announcing, "In God's name, starting today, Fiore will take over the household. The keys and the books will all be handed to her."

"The docks got raided, but I saved what mattered." I leaned against the wall, trying to defend myself.

Suddenly, a vicious slap struck my face, cutting off my words.

It was Marco.

He jabbed his finger at my nose and snarled, "You've got some nerve! If you weren't such an incompetent consigliere, how would the FBI have targeted that location? Now apologize to Fiore and beg for her forgiveness!"

Fiore walked over with fake sympathy, tugging at Marco's sleeve. "Darling, don't be like that. Chiara didn't mean it."

Marco waved his hand impatiently, like he was swatting away a fly. "Chiara, just apologize to my parents. Then, get on your knees and kiss Fiore's shoes to show your submission, and we'll call it even."

Fiore lifted her skirt and walked up to me. She raised her stiletto-clad foot slightly, her eyes full of innocence but dripping with malice.

"Chiara, Marco just gave me these shoes. Be gentle; don't get them dirty."

She cooed sweetly, pushing her pointed toe closer to my face.

I frowned at her but did not move.

Seeing my resistance, Fiore suddenly lurched backward without warning, staggering as if she had been violently shoved. She let out an exaggerated scream, clutching her ankle as tears instantly streamed down her face.

"Chiara! I get it if you didn't want to do it, but why did you stomp on my foot? It hurts so much..."

"Chiara!" Marco completely lost it. He grabbed me by the hair and slammed my head into the hard wall.

A sharp pain exploded in my forehead, and warm liquid trickled down my cheek. Before long, my vision blurred as the world turned blood red.

After that, I was locked in the cold family chapel. This place housed the crucifix and photos of past Dons.

It was also the place Marco feared the most.

He should have been afraid, because Luca’s ashes were kept here.

Late at night, when everything was silent, I dragged my battered body and painfully climbed up to the statue. Inside its base, I found Luca's urn. Then, with trembling hands, I felt around the hidden compartment at the bottom of the urn.

A ruby signet ring fell into my palm, something I had never dared touch before.

Marco was paranoid by nature, and the estate was crawling with his informants. With the chaos of the storm keeping everyone distracted, however, this was the perfect moment to move in plain sight.

Years ago, the old Don, Giovanni Gallante, had secretly slipped it to me in the confessional before he died, away from prying eyes. He had held my hand, his cloudy eyes filled with tears.

"Chiara, M-Marco doesn't have what it takes to bear the weight of the crown. This signet ring can access all the family's secret accounts in Slandrea. It's the Gallante family's last lifeline. Don't use it unless absolutely necessary."

He added, "But if... If that fool Marco is going to destroy this empire, then you use it. Protect the Gallante family's foundation."

I clenched the cold ring in my hand and hid it close to my body. Then, I turned my gaze to Luca's portrait.

"Luca, just wait a little longer. Soon, I'll take back everything...for you, for our child."

Due to the blood loss and the long night of terror, my vision went dark, and I collapsed unconscious at the foot of the statue.